


For Something Good

by ashandcas (ashriddle4)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College, First Kiss, First Time, Football Player Dean, Hate to Love, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, NSFW in later chapters, Slow Burn, forced roommates, preacher in training cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-02-24 22:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2597999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashriddle4/pseuds/ashandcas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas Novak, who is studying to be a pastor at a Christian college, is forced to be roommates with the infuriating Dean Winchester, the quarterback of the football team. With the stress of senior year getting to Cas, alone time with the best looking person on campus isn't good for that whole resisting temptation thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Carrying a cardboard box, Dean Winchester stepped into Cas’s dorm room and shut the door behind him. His sandy hair had been made messy by the wind and he had a fallen leaf on the shoulder of his grey Henley, which absolutely infuriated Cas for reasons unknown.

“Just keep to your side of the room and we’ll be fine,” Cas grumbled, his heart already picking up speed.

Dean dropped a cardboard box down on the bed by the small window. “Great – I can just pee in this corner.” He glanced at the bathroom door that was on Cas’s designated side of the room.

“Suit yourself.” Cas shrugged.

When Gabriel dropped out last minute to go on a mission trip to Ecuador, Cas had no idea it would mean rooming with the quarterback of the football team, his sworn enemy since freshman year.

Dean leaned back on the mattress and reclined his head against the white concrete wall. “God, I can’t believe I’m stuck with a church boy.”

Cas shoved his large textbook into his messenger bag. “It’s not my fault you don’t have any friends, and if it escaped that enormous brain of yours, _this_ is a _Christian_ university. You throw a stick around here you’re going to hit a ‘church boy’”

“Well, whatever. If I don’t have any friends, neither do you, preacher,” Dean spat.

Cas dropped his messenger bag on his chair. “Screw you.”

“Are preachers even allowed to say ‘screw you’? Do you need to do hail Mary’s or some shit now?”

“First, I’m not a preacher,” Cas stomped closer to where Dean still sat on the bed, seemingly unaffected, that leaf still perched on his shoulder. “Second, it’s a lot better than what I was thinking in my head. Third, we’re protestants. We don’t do hail Mary’s. In three years, have you ever even been to chapel? It’s required, you know.”

“It’s not required if you bribe Maureen.” Dean’s lips curled into a smirk that had Cas thinking about punching things.

“Who’s Maureen?” Cas’s face went hot. Only Dean Winchester could piss him off this badly.

“The lovely woman who takes chapel attendance. That reminds me I need to ask her how her son’s piano recital went.”

Cas groaned and pulled at his hair. “Why do you even go to this school?”

“Well, it wasn’t for the slimy caf food and the pleasant company I can tell you that.” Dean let out a short laugh.

“You know what, Winchester?” Cas tossed his bag onto his shoulder and wrapped a thick blue scarf around his neck. “I’m going to be late for Advanced Aramaic. Have fun in, what class do you have, right now? Fingerpainting?”

“Yeah, and let me show you what else I can do with my fingers.” Scowling, Dean flipped off Cas. Cas threw open the door and slammed it shut behind him.

This was going to be the longest, worst year of Cas’s life. Thank God it was his last year and in May, he’d never, ever have to see Dean Winchester ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're pretty mean to each other for the first few chapters, but don't worry. Dean and Cas can only hate each other for so long. :) Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Cas grabbed a coffee and two sugars and half a bagel from the caf. He ended up throwing the bagel out because he was too annoyed to be hungry and he just wanted to get to class, but it wasn’t for the atmosphere.

The religion buildings were the oldest on campus; their foundations were cracked and crooked, not to mention they had a mold problem only exacerbated by the pee from the raccoon infestation.

Despite the fact that this was a Christian college and Religion was the most popular major, most of the money went to the football stadium, scholarships for football players and paying for football coaches.

That meant Cas spent most of his classes, including Advanced Aramaic, where he sat now, in a cramped, smelly room, hoping raccoon pee didn’t drip on his head. Again.

“Cas, what’s wrong?” Hannah turned around in her squeaky desk chair, her curly brown hair bouncing over the shoulders of her blue blazer. Cas hadn’t even noticed she’d gotten to class.

“I’m considering killing someone,” Cas whispered.

With a straight face, Hannah replied, “Murder’s a sin, Cas.”

“It’s Dean Winchester.”

Hannah shrugged. “In that case, you could argue that it’s actually a smiting.”

Cas ran his hands over his face and said mostly to himself, “I have to room with him.”

Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “ _He_ ’s your new roommate? What? Was Satan not available?”

“ _Hannah._ ”

“It’s just not fair. Not after what he did.”

Cas let out an exasperated breath. “Look, I know, but what I can do about it?”

“Talk to your RD.”

“I did. He said all room assignments are final.”

“That’s ridiculous. People switch roommates all the time.”

“He said it’s a new rule.”

“It’s a stupid rule,” Hannah huffed.

“Hey, idjits,” their Professor snapped. He looked angry under the old ball cap he always wore, despite the school’s rules against it. Cas hadn’t even noticed him walking into the room. “You’re either gonna pay attention or you’re gonna get out of my class.”

“Yes, Professor Singer,” Hannah and Cas said at the same time.

 

. . .

 

He’d had a long and exhausting day of classes. Advanced Aramaic, Advanced Greek, History of the Christian Church, his public speaking class, entire classes dedicated to a single figure from the Bible. His bag was packed with syllabi full of tests and essays and practical exams that he had no idea how he’d have the time for all of them throughout the semester. And Cas had a different set of five different classes to go to tomorrow. He wished he could go back to his room and get away from the pounding in his head, but no. He had to go back to Dean, who just made everything and all his endless stress a thousand times worse.

“How was fingerpainting?” Cas slammed the door shut behind him.

Dean was tugging on a pair of boots. “How was douchebag class?”

Cas flopped down in his desk chair and unraveled his scarf. “I’ve got homework to do. I don’t have time for whatever this is.”

Cas wasn’t looking at him, but he could hear Dean slipping on his jacket. “You started it, man.”

“The classic ‘you started it’ defense. I’m surprised you didn’t go to law school.” Cas’s gaze went involuntarily across Dean’s body, from his wide shoulders that filled out his black jacket, the red flannel shirt beneath it with two buttons open at the top, the tight jeans that hugged his waist. Cas’s mouth suddenly felt dry. “Where are you going?”

“Not everyone sits around their boring dorm room all night studying.”

“At least I pass my classes,” Cas said through clenched teeth. Though he wasn’t sure he was going to pass them this year.

The usual devil-may-care look on Dean’s face became something much harder, more serious. “I pass my classes just fine.”

“Cheating doesn’t count.”

Dean grabbed Cas’s arm, his fingers pressing into the skin. “Hey, asshole. I do not cheat. So don’t – just _don’t._ ” Dean let him go and Cas finally breathed again.

For a few moments, they just remained there in silence then Cas quietly spoke, “You break every other rule, why not that one?”

Dean let out a long breath through his nose, his voice stayed surprisingly low. His eyes, which were an unsettling shade of green, locked on Cas. “Cheating's like lying and lying’s a sin, right? If I’m gonna go to hell, I’m gonna go for something good.”

Cas felt like lead had been poured into bones. Dean was maybe an arms length away… and had Dean just talked about ‘church stuff’ as if he believed it? “Like what?”

Dean looked down at his boots and then back up at Cas. “Dunno. Haven’t decided yet.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Autumn had set in quite nicely in Kentucky. The plentiful trees were painted in rich oranges and reds, and it had Cas thinking about pumpkins and spiced apple cider. He could see the changing season through the large window behind the cashier, and he’d felt the crispness of it on his way here from his dorm.

Cas slipped off his leather gloves and stuffed them into the pocket of his jeans, and unbuttoned the wool pea coat he was wearing.

“Have you killed him yet?” Hannah asked.

“Who?” Cas took a bite of the breakfast burrito he just ordered from the Library, which was actually a fast food restaurant in the old library, and it became rather confusing when you wanted to study at the library not eat burritos at the Library.

“Who? What who? _Dean_.” She sighed, sipping her green tea latte as they sat down at a nearby table.

Cas took another bite of the burrito an said with his mouth full, “I’m biding my time.”

Hannah looked at him very seriously. “Excellent strategy.”

They spent the next hour talking over their Greek notes and about the project they had in public speaking. Cas shared almost all his classes with Hannah and though he loved her, she had started to become omnipresent in his life and he wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that.

. . .

When it was time for chapel, they took the scenic route because Hannah wanted to look at the changes. She talked nearly the whole time and Cas wasn’t sure about what, but she wasn’t really inviting him to comment, so he just let his mind go blank. It wasn’t until he made it to the old church building that a thought crossed Cas’s mind.

“Do you know who’s speaking at chapel?” Cas opened the door for Hannah.

Hannah walked through the door a few paces and then waited for Cas to catch up with her. “Probably Dr. Shurley. He always speaks at the first chapel of the year. Why?”

“I just haven’t seen him this semester yet, have you?” Cas pulled his student ID out of his wallet and handed it to the middle-aged woman sitting behind a fold-out table and wearing a cat sweater.

Hannah blinked a few times, her brow furrowing. “No. Come to think of it, I haven’t.”

“Thanks, Maureen.” Cas took back his student ID and smiled brightly at the woman seated in front of him.

She grinned back. “Have a good day, Castiel.”

Hannah took her card from Maureen and together they walked through the arched doorway into the sanctuary. The Carver Chapel smelled a lot like moldy carpet and only a little like the Apple Cinnamon Glade Plug-Ins they had in each outlet. It wasn’t a particularly good sent by anyone’s account, but to Cas it was familiar and comforting. He’d spent a lot of time here since he started at Carver three years ago. As they made their way toward the front pews, Hannah asked, “You know who else I haven’t heard from in a few weeks?”

Near the back of the sanctuary, Cas saw Dean. Dean who never came to chapel, wearing a black and grey flannel shirt and torn jeans. Cas couldn’t help but stare. Dean caught him and winked. Cas tore his gaze away.

“Gabriel. Cas, have you- Cas!” She smacked his arm and that jolted him back into the conversation.

“What?”

She sat down in the pew. “You heard from Gabriel?”

“Not since last month.” Cas sat down next to her, his gaze drifting momentarily back to Dean.

“Yeah me too,” Cas replied and that seemed to be good enough for Hannah.

The Chapel Band consisted of Anna, Nora, Alfie and Inias. All friends of Cas’s, or at least acquaintances, who as the lights lowered started playing their instruments (banjo, guitar, possibly a lute) and singing into their microphones. It was some sort of modern-folk version of an old hymn, “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms”. He stood up like they were supposed to and sang. He knew the words well. His older brother, Michael, would sing them to him when he was a child.

Cas chanced a look back in the direction of his roommate. Sure enough, he wasn’t standing up or joining in, but unlike the people around him, he wasn’t on his phone or doodling in a notebook. He was just staring toward the band, a thoughtful look on his handsome, no not handsome, decidedly _not_ handsome face.

Cas rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He was just overtired, nothing to concern himself about.

The Chapel Band sang two more songs. Nora said a prayer and then they sat down so today’s speaker, which should be Dr. Shurley, could take over the pulpit, but who came to the front of the chapel, was not at all who Cas expected. It was no one he’d ever seen before. He was on the short side with greyish curly hair, wrinkles and he was dressed in a thick knit cardigan.

“Who’s that?” Cas whispered to Hannah.

She shrugged. Between he and Hannah, they knew everyone involved with Carver Chapel and the school’s religion department.

“Hello everyone, my name is Dr. Tron, but you can call me Marv.” His thick hands gripped the pulpit. Cas watched him

Hannah leaned over saying, “What kind of name-“

“Shh-“ said someone behind them Cas didn’t turn around to acknowledge.

Dr. Tron smiled. “I’m your new dean.”

New dean? Dr. Shurley had been there for decades – was a good man, a mentor, a friend, and when the occasion called for it, a surrogate father. Cas couldn’t shake the odd feeling he had in his chest and he listened to “Marv”. Marv who seemed overly occupied with two concepts: hell and sex.

. . .

“So Marv seemed like a total douchenozzle,” Dean said, from his bed, as Cas walked into the room and shut the door.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Cas replied easily.

Dean’s eyes got really wide; he looked afraid. “Wait… did we just agree on something? This is a dark day.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “You were in chapel.” It wasn’t a question, just a simple statement of fact.

“I go to chapel.” Dean shrugged. “Occasionally. And Dr. Tron is an asshat so I don’t think I’ll be making that mistake again.”

Cas plopped down on the edge of his bed and retied his sneakers. “We need to get you some insults that make use of words besides douche and ass.”

Dean gasped and put his hand to his heart dramatically. “Little preacher just cursed. He’s going to have to… ask for… forgiveness.”

Cas snorted. “Aw, Winchester learned something in chapel today.”

Dean yawned and leaned back in his bed. He tossed a football in the air and then caught it as it came down. “You know what happened to Dr. Shurley?”

“Why would I know?” Cas pulled some books off the shelf on his dresser.

Dean leaned over and winked salaciously. Cas swallowed. “I don’t know what you guys gossip about at your orgies.”

Cas glared at Dean. “You mean church small group?”

“Even hotter.”

“You’re disgusting,” Cas grumbled, zipping up his backpack.

“That’s what all the girls say.”

“You give me a migraine.”

“Yeah, well, you make me want to kill a thousand people.” Dean’s face pinched like even he realized that was a weird thing to say. It was almost cute, except it most certainly wasn’t.

With a heavy sigh, Cas flung open the door. “Whatever, Dean. I have class.”

“Have fun,” Dean slid his laptop off his desk. “I’m gonna look at porn on my computer before practice.”

Cas almost said something about how looking at porn could get him kicked out of Carver, but he thought more about it. Looking at porn could get Dean Winchester kicked out of Carver. Dean looking at porn, on his bed, in _their_ room-

Overtired was right. Cas needed to get out of there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so "Marv" is gonna cause some issues as Marv's are prone to do. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

“Hello,” Cas answered his cell phone as he was hurrying back to his dorm. He could hear thunder in the distance and the sweet smell of oncoming rain. He wanted to get back before the downpour.

“Aloha, little brother.” It was Gabriel. He sounded happy and upbeat, not that that was unusual for Gabriel.

“Aloha?”

“It means hello.”

Cas sighed. He really had some serious studying to do. Those Aramaic vocab words weren’t going to memorize themselves. “I know what it means, Gabriel.”

“Did you know it also means goodbye?”

“Yes, Gabriel. How are you calling me? I thought you were ‘off the grid’.”

There was a long pause. “Yeah, well, turns out I missed the grid.”

No way that was good. “Where are you?”

Another long pause. Cas was getting a bit worried. “Listen, Cas-“

“Gabriel.”

“Ecuador, well it wasn’t, it wasn’t for me.”

Cas’s voice turned harsher and he couldn’t help it. “Where. Are. You?”

“Maui,” he whispered.

“You’re in Maui?” Cas nearly shouted and then lowered his voice when the student next to him glared. “Tell me there’s a new start church there or something you’re-“ All he hears in the background is _tequila_ really loudly. “Are you at a bar?”

This just kept getting better and better – well at least for Gabriel. Not so much for Cas’s temper.

“They serve food.”

Cas ground his teeth. “I’m going to kill you.”

Gabriel sighed. “Oh, come on. I’m not you. You know I was never really cut out for this. I have a Youth Ministry minor I thought it just meant days of pulling pranks and playing penguin football. I’m sorry that-“

“I don’t care that you don’t want to be a pastor, Gabriel. I care that you ditched me and now I’m stuck with Dean Winchester as a roommate.”

Gabriel laughed. Quick and loud. “You got roomed with Dean-O, the football meathead?”

“Yeah and it sucks. He’s driving me crazy and it’s your fault.”

“Cas-“ There was a gentleness, a friendship, in Gabriel’s voice that Cas just didn’t want to hear right now. He was way too angry at Gabriel for abandoning him like this.

“You know what? Just go drink your pina coladas or whatever you’re doing. I’ve got to go.” Cas hung up his phone.

He pulled the hood of his Carver sweatshirt over his head and tried to the block out the cold wind stinging his ears. He didn’t have the patience to think about Gabriel for another second. He needed to get back to his room and study.

 

. . .

 

When Cas woke up the next day, he’d never been so happy to see the sun. It was streaming bright and white over Dean’s head, casting dramatic lines from the blinds across his plaid flannel comforter. Not really wanting to talk to Dean or wake him up (there was something almost serene, touchable, about Dean when he was asleep, so different than his abrasive awake persona), Cas quietly dressed in jeans and a lightweight orange sweater and headed to the caf for breakfast.

He got a bowl of cereal, Lucky Charms, and sat down at his regular table with Inias and Nora. Hannah was curiously absent.

“You coming tonight?” Inias asked.

“Coming where?” Cas replied, his mouth full.

“Football game,” Nora answered with a bright smile, her banjo taking up a good portion of the round table.

“Why on earth would I want to go to the football game?” Cas asked.

Nora bumped into Cas on purpose. “Come on, everyone’s going. We even talked Hannah into it.”

That couldn’t be true. “Hannah hates football more than I do.”

Inias shrugged. “Yeah, well, we told her you were going.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” No one here was making any sense.

Nora sighed. “Nothing, Cas. Just come on. We’ll get hot dogs and root for the other team. It’ll be fun.”

He didn’t know why, seeing as this would a perfect night for some quiet time in his empty dorm room since Dean would be playing in tonight's game, but he said yes anyway.

 

. . .

 

The stadium was packed full of students and visitors in the black and gold colors of Carver. The Marching Band was playing slightly off key and he couldn’t even move without bumping into someone. Cas hated the feeling of being boxed in, especially surrounded by such loud people.

Cas didn’t know a lot about football, but he knew the basics. He knew what all the positions were and the main rules, but it wasn’t really his thing. He was already bored, a hot dog in his lap, that Hannah had bought for him even though he told her he could pay for it nearly five times.

Cas looked at the quarterback’s jersey. He expected WINCHESTER printed across the back in bold letters. Instead, he saw CROWLEY. “Where’s Dean?” he asked, almost absentmindedly. Dean hadn’t seemed sick and he hadn’t been injured at any of the practices he’d gone to.

“What?” Nora shouted, trying to be heard over the crowd.

“He’s the quarterback, isn’t he?” Cas asked back just as loudly.

Nora titled her head. “Dean Winchester? Winchester got booted off the team.” She said that like it was common knowledge. Like he should know this.

Cas blinked. “When?”

Inias leaned over and said. “During summer practices is what I heard.”

Cas shook his head. Dean had been going to practices since the year started. “That can’t be-“

“It’s true,” Inias said definitively.

“Why?”

“It’s usually an academics thing.” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

That didn’t make sense to Cas. Dean said he passed his classes just fine. Maybe he’d been lying about it, but it hadn’t seemed like it. It was one of the few things Dean had ever said that Cas just knew was true.

Cas sat there for a few minutes watching the game, but something wasn’t feeling right and he couldn’t shake the need to go back to his dorm. Cas shot straight up from his seat, knocking the hot dog Hannah bought him to the ground.

“I’m not feeling well. I’m gonna go.” Cas shoved his way past to the aisle, ignoring his friends’ voices behind him, and hurried back to his dorm room, where he found Dean Winchester’s hands wrapped around a bottle of cheap whiskey.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: there's some (very little not and very harsh) homophobic language in this chapter. It's not Cas or Dean saying it about each other or anything like that though.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Cas shut the door to the dorm room to make sure nobody saw, though he didn’t know why he was concerned with Dean getting in trouble.

Dean was sitting in the middle of the floor in nothing but a pair of torn jeans that fit perfectly against his hips. He had a tight grip on a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Secrets out, I guess,” Dean’s speech was slightly slurred but honestly not as much as he expected it to be. Dean took another long drink from the bottle.

“Give me the bottle.” As Cas reached out for it, a weird thought popped in his mind that this would be the first time he’d ever touched a container of liquor.

Dean ignored Cas and took another long swig. “I love alcohol.”

“You shouldn’t be drinking.” Cas stopped reaching for the bottle. Clearly, Dean would not be handing it over.

He shrugged. “I’m 22. Not illegal.”

Cas sighed. He was technically right, but that wasn’t the point. “No, but-“

“But what?” Dean spat, standing up and moving into Cas’s space. “It’s against school policy? Well let me tell you something, little preacher: I don’t give a rat’s ass about school policy.”

Cas tried to ignore how close Dean was to him now. How he could smell the alcohol on his breath, how in this moment he didn’t smell like he usually smelled, like Stetson cologne and Doublemint. Cas tried to push that thought away. It didn’t matter what Dean usually smelled like. Cas shouldn’t even know what he usually smelled like.

“I’m more worried about alcohol poisoning. Give me the bottle.” Cas snatched the bottle away from Dean and put it down on his own desk. Their fingers grazed briefly and Cas continued to feel the contact long after their hands had parted.

“Anyone ever tell you not to take a man’s whiskey,” Dean said, but there wasn’t any anger in his voice. Just a sadness that lay over him like a blanket.

“Getting drunk isn’t going to solve anything,” Cas whispered.

Dean sighed and plopped down on the side of his bed, his hands laced between his legs. “You’ve clearly never been drunk.”

Cas would regret this, he just knew it, but he sat down on Dean’s desk chair and scooted it so they were just a few inches apart. “What’s going on, Dean? You’ve been talking about football practice since you moved in and you haven’t been going.”

Dean kept staring down at his bare feet. Cas looked down too and noticed freckles on Dean’s toes.

“What do you care?” Dean mumbled.

“I care because you’re drunk and half naked in my room.” Cas scratched at the back of his own neck. He was in strange waters here. He’d never comforted a drunk man before, especially not a shirtless one, with the arm muscles of a star quarterback.

Suddenly, Dean was standing again. Anger showed itself in the hard lines of his body. “Does my nakedness bother you?”

“Dean?” Cas had no idea what his roommate was getting at.

“It does. Doesn’t it?” Dean hissed. “I’ve always _bothered_ you, haven’t I?”

Now, Cas was on his feet again. He wasn’t going to sit there and be accused of. Well, honestly, he didn’t know what he was being accused of, but he was going to defend himself. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s why you hate me so much.”

“You bother me, Dean. I wouldn’t say I-“

Dean cut him off. “Well, you know what Cas, screw it.” He took a deep breath and straightened his back. His gaze focused on Cas, but Dean didn’t look mad. He looked scared, exposed, despite the harsh tone of his voice. “My name is Dean Winchester and sometimes I’m into dick.”

Cas’s heart jolted into his chest and he tripped back against the door. “Whoa, what?”

“You heard me. Your roommate is a first rate queer,” Cas shuddered at the way Dean said that. “Gonna kick me out of this room? Get me tossed out of school just like I got kicked off the football team for being a damn-“

“Is that what happened?” Cas was still against the door. A few things about Dean, about the two of them, suddenly clicking into place. “Is that why you’re not on the team anymore?”

There was a long silence where there was nothing to be heard but the heavy breaths of them both, falling into an unexpected rhythm. Dean’s voice softly broke the silence,

“And now I’m nothing.”

Cas swallowed. A part of him wanted to reach out and touch Dean – just his forearm – for comfort, but another part of him read the danger in that touch. It wasn’t Dean he was afraid of – nothing like that – it was himself. So instead Cas reached out with what he had. Words and the truth.

“You’re not, you’re not nothing, Dean.”

In that moment, Cas felt like there had never been a man less nothing and more something than Dean Winchester. Cas wanted to blame that thought on the whiskey, but it wasn’t him who’d had anything to drink.


	6. Chapter 6

Cas was woken by the sound of slamming. It couldn’t be anyone but Dean. “It’s five on a Saturday. Go back to bed,” Cas grumbled, covering his head with his pillow. He peeked out and saw, with blurry vision, Dean chucking stuff into a suitcase. Cas sat straight up.

“Dean, what are you doing?”

Dean sighed and turned around. He was holding a pair of boxers in his hands. His boxers – that Dean wore- they were green and brown like his eyes. “What does it look like?”

Cas blinked, trying to focus anywhere but on the underwear Dean was waving.“Why are you packing?”

“Because this place blows and I’m over it.” Dean shoved the boxers into his suitcase.

“It’s your senior year.” Cas’s voice was still very sleepy, but he knew whatever was going on needed to stop.

“I’ve put up with this shit long enough. The only reason I did it was for the scholarship and to play and now that’s gone.” Dean shoved books from his desk into the luggage. Cas had no idea how he planned to zip the tattered thing shut.

Cas’s feet hit the cold tile floor and he made his way toward Dean. “Why’d you even come back this year?”

Dean grabbed his whole desk drawer and dumped it into the suitcase. “Bobby, Professor Singer, did me a solid keeping them from throwing me out of school and I didn’t want to disappoint him, but I’m 22 years old. I’m sick of rules about who can be in my room, what I can drink and smoke and I’m sick of rules about who can blow me in the back of my Impala.”

Cas’s brain could only manage to wrap itself around the words ‘blow me’ and they became a resounding chorus in his head. He needed any other subject.

“What’s your major?” Cas blurted.

Dean huffed. “I talk about blowing guys in the back of my classic car and you ask me about my academic history. Your virgin ways continue to surprise, little preacher.”

“Dean.” He really couldn’t talk about Dean and blow jobs any longer. Like he _really, really_ could not.

“Literature,” Dean said succinctly.

Cas’s eyes widened and he blinked.

“What?”

“Who’s your favorite author?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You testing me?”

“Just curious.” Cas shrugged, his t-shirt suddenly feeling like not enough clothing.

“Vonnegut.”

Cas smiled. He’d read plenty of Vonnegut in his life and he wasn’t sure why but this quote came to mind. “We are what we pretend to be so we must be careful what we pretend to be.”

Dean crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Is there a point to this?”

Cas wasn’t sure about doing it but he did it before he could stop himself. He put his hand on Dean’s upper arm, feeling the flannel beneath his fingers. “I think if you really came here just to play football you’d have picked a different major. Carver has the best lit program in the state.”

Dean stared at Cas for a moment too long. A moment that made his stomach plummet to his feet. Then, Dean turned away and began pulling everything out of his luggage and putting it back on his bed while mumbling,

“You are the most obnoxious, infuriating, pain in my…”

A smile crept on to Cas’s face. He felt triumphant and oddly relieved. Now what was he even supposed to do with those feelings? But for now Dean was staying here and he’d worry about the rest later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for those of you who don't like short chapter. I love short chapters - and also trust me, I'll update way faster this way. Thanks for reading! (This would've been up yesterday, but I had internet issues)


	7. Chapter 7

“Hello? Little preacher? Anybody home?” Dean’s face was about two inches from Cas’s face and when Cas realized he nearly flipped over his chair.

“Huh?”

_Real smooth, Cas._

Dean’s face pinched together with what Cas had to mistake for concern. It wasn’t like Dean cared. “What’s with you, man?”

Cas was in the middle of studying for two tests and he had a paper to write for History of the Christian Church.

“I’m tired. I’ve had 12 cups of coffee.” His words were much faster than he expected them to be. Dean was standing a few feet back his hands out. “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to catch your heart when it bursts out of your chest,” Dean said with a laugh.

Cas sighed. “You need something?”

Dean did a back-and-forth hand gesture as he spoke, “I quip, you quip, there’s a pattern to these things and you’re wrecking the flow, man.”

“I talked to Becky today,” Cas said quickly, again changing the subject into a territory in which he felt safer.

Dean sat down on the edge of Cas’s bed and looked at Cas with interest. “Some girl you’ve got the hots for?”

“Ew no.” Cas shook his head. “Shurley’s wife.”

Dean leaned in. “Do we have orgy gossip?”

“It’s not an- whatever. It’s just this morning at church Becky said Shurley ran off, just disappeared, then called her and said he was shacking up with some former student.”

“She told you this?”

Cas paused. He might as well admit this to Dean. It’s not like he wasn’t the keeper of some of Dean’s secrets. “I might have been listening in… to a conversation…she was having with her women’s group.”

“Yeah.” Dean didn’t seem surprised. His lips were just quirked into a kind of wistful smile that made something funny flip between Cas’s ribs.

“It just – it doesn’t sound like Dr. Shurley.”

“A lot of people pretend to be something they’re not, Little Preacher. Don’t let it get you down.” Dean leaned forward and patted Cas on the knee. Cas stared down at the spot Dean had just touched like it was on fire.

Dean stood up from Cas’s bed and grabbed his canvas jacket from his own desk chair.

“Now where are you going?” Cas asked. “I know it’s not practice.”

“Where I’ve been going this whole time. Work.”

Cas turned his chair so it was facing away from his homework and toward Dean. “Where do you work?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?” Cas’s eyes widened. “Dean, do you work at some sort of… male Hooters?”

Dean laughed. “Male Hooters? There’s no Male Hooters. But that’s an excellent business idea. Everything they serve is phallic. Hot dogs, sausages, links, bratwurst.”

“ _Dean.”_

“Fine, Cas. The menu needs some work.”

“Where _do_ you work?”

Dean looked toward the door. “At a roadhouse.”

“So a bar?” Carver students weren’t even allowed to go into a bar let alone work at one. No wonder Dean wasn’t telling anyone. Though Cas wasn’t sure why he couldn’t just get another job – one that wasn’t against the rules. Then again, Dean loved to break rules.

“It’s a roadhouse,” Dead insisted.

“Do they serve alcohol?”

“Chili’s serves alcohol.”

“You know what I mean.” Cas wouldn’t admit out loud, but he was a little worried. If Dean got caught doing this, he’d definitely get kicked out, especially after… well after. Cas did his best not think about _why_ Dean had gotten in trouble it exacerbated that funny feeling in his stomach. Maybe he had an ulcer… yeah that was what it was. An ulcer..

“Yes, it’s a bar – and you,” Dean stomped over toward Cas and grabbed his wrist, “ are coming with me.” Dean pulled on Cas on his rolling chair toward the closet.

“No. I’m not. I have to study. I have to-“

Dean grabbed Cas’s brown boots and shoved them onto Cas’s feet. Cas just watched Dean.

“What if we get caught,” Cas said quietly.

Dean patted Cas on the knee as he stood. “It’s a biker bar in the middle of nowhere. You won’t get caught.”

Cas’s heart was beating really fast now. Did he have an ulcer and a heart arrythmia? “I don’t know about this.” Cas reluctantly stood up.

“Well, I do, and we’re going.” Dean threw Cas’s wool coat at him. Cas caught it and put it on. “All that studying is bad for you, little preacher. Don’t you know what they say about work and play?”

“No.”

Dean put his arm over Cas’s shoulder. “You know, that saying. It’s a popular saying, Cas. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

“Jack who?”

Cas wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. Cas could only register. _Dean’s arm – on my shoulders – touching._

Dean laughed. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Cas followed Dean out of the dorm room, his two tests and his paper forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was a little late. I was at the ER yesterday and I also have a 2 month old baby and I'm doing NaNoWriMo but I'm keeping up as best I can with the updates. Thanks so much for reading and for all of your comments. I really appreciate it :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The very end of this is a bit nsfw. I might need to up the rating of this fic, but I'll let y'all know when there's anything smutty in a chapter.

The dimly lit roadhouse smelled like peanuts and beer. Cas sat on the shaky barstool and watched Dean skillfully pour drinks for leather-clad customers. They took his offering with manly grunts of thanks and stiff nods. The waitress, Jo, and the owner, Jo’s mother Ellen, occasionally stopped by to check on Dean, tell him a joke and even talk with Cas as if they were friends.

Despite his earlier misgivings, Cas felt relaxed in this place that belonged to Dean Winchester, that fit him like, not a glove, but like the perfect leather boot. He leaned forward on the bar, his elbow nearly knocking over the coke Dean had poured him. A few moments ago, a man with large tattooed forearms had ordered a light beer and Cas was just remembering the conversation they’d been having.

“Explain the thing again,” Cas said.

Dean tossed a dishrag over his shoulder. “Beer then liquor, never been sicker. Liquor then beer, have no fear.”

Cas squinted. “I’m not entirely sure I understand the chemistry or biology behind why that would be accurate.”

Jo sidled up beside Cas, her jeans fitting tight and low around her hips, her long blonde hair swishing as she moved. She had a pale face and a nose that was the perfect size for her face – almost _too_ perfect. Jo sat the plastic tray she was carrying down on the bar and angled her body toward Cas.

Cas looked directly at her eyes though he found it surprisingly difficult to look away from Dean for any extended period of time. And no he wasn’t going to analyze that at all.

“Mom’s owned this roadhouse my whole life,” Jo said. “It’s true, chemistry or biology be damned.” Jo pulled herself onto the bar and spun around until she was on the same side as Dean. She poured a small shot glass of a clear liquid and slid it in front of Cas. “Tequila. On the house.” Jo grinned.

Cas stared down at the full shot glass in front of him.

His heart started beating more quickly; his hands started to sweat. If only he had a less physical response to the prospect of rule breaking, but how could he? Cas Novak was the kid who jaywalked one time, _one time,_ and got a ticket for it.

“I don’t think-“

Jo bumped into his arm. “It’s not gonna kill you.”

Cas swallowed, trying to think of a good and non-embarrassing excuse. “I don’t like losing control.”

Jo smiled, her nose wrinkling. “You won’t lose control. It’ll just loosen you up.”

Cas couldn’t get his eyes off the shot of tequila. He swore it was staring back at him at this point. “What’s the virtue in my being ‘loose’?”

Dean’s voice broke into the conversation. “Leave the kid alone.”

Dean was staring at Jo and Jo was staring back at him. They seemed to be having a silent conversation not unlike the ones Cas used to have with Gabriel.

Cas’s cheeks burned hot. His hand wrapped around the shot glass. Cas didn’t need Jo and Dean deciding whether or not he’d drink – what? - 3 ounces of liquid. He could make that decision on his own.

“Not a kid,” Cas muttered as he put his lips to the glass.

“Cas,” Dean warned.

Cas tilted his head back and tossed the shot down his throat with one quick twist of his wrist.

It burned from his tongue down his esophagus all the way into his stomach. He might as well have swallowed battery acid. Cas tensed and coughed.

“Holy shit,” Cas spat.

Dean’s mouth had fallen open. His eyes were so wide, the lights made them look greener. “Damn, Little Preacher.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” _curse “_ but ow. People do that for enjoyment?”

Cas’s pain eased as his gaze focused on Dean. Dean’s mouth spread into a wide grin.

“Yeah, what do you usually do for a laugh?” Dean asked.

“Watch cartoons.” Cas’s head was already starting to feel dizzier, lighter.

“I like him,” Jo said. Cas had honestly forgotten she was even still there.

Jo touched Cas’s shoulder, her hand lingering there and then she turned and walked away, briefly glancing back over her shoulder.

Dean leaned forward on the bar. “She likes you.”

“I heard her.”

He stretched over the bar and shoved Cas playfully. “I mean, she _likes_ you, man.”

Cas furrowed his brow. “No she doesn’t – she couldn’t. She doesn’t.” Jo was beautiful and fun. A “nerd” like Cas should be – what should he be feeling right now? Other than buzzed because he was definitely feeling buzzed, but now about Jo.

Dean straightened up and put his hands on his hips. Cas couldn’t help but think, with the shape of his shoulders and tightness of his stomach, that he looked like Captain America. Cas should buy him a cape and a shield.

Dean said, “I think it’s time for Operation-“

“No.” Somehow Cas knew what was coming.

“Get Cas laid.”

Cas’s stomach dropped and so did his head – into his hands. “Oh, please no.”

Dean paused for a moment.

Cas breathed in the silence for a moment and then looked up, hoping that Dean had dropped the issue.

Dean smiled at him.

Cas bit down on the inside of his cheek and tried to focus on that instead of everything else he was thinking and feeling.

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot,” Dean said. “Get Cas chastely kissed and courted.”

Cas just shook his head, but Dean seemed to be in another world, not paying Cas any mind. If it weren’t for him planning Cas’s ultimate humiliation, (Cas’s dates, though there had been few, were always humiliating) Dean would almost look, well, cute, God help him, with his face scrunched up in such serious thought.

“You’re going to the corn maze right?” Dean asked.

“Well, probably, but-“

“Hey, Jo, come here for a sec?” He shouted and then whispered, “I gotcha, man.”

Jo hurried back over quickly as if she’d just been waiting for the invitation. Cas had no idea how to sort through that concept.

Dean’s eyes flicked to Cas and then went back to Jo. “So I was thinking like there’s this corn maze our school is doing next week maybe you’d like to go with uh us.”

“Totally,” Jo smiled. “Sounds awesome!” Dean lifted up his hand and she high fived him and then they brought their fists together for a bump.

Cas stared down at that empty shot glass again. “Awesome,” he muttered.

. . .

 

Dean unlocked and opened the door to their dorm room. He flicked on the light and cast a glow over the slightly messy place. They had clean room checks in two days and there were dishes in their tiny sink, dirty socks on the floor and trash overflowing from the small can. It was a mess, their mess, and maybe it was the tequila, but Cas kind of liked that.

Dean plopped down on his bed and tugged off his boots. “Did you have a good night?”

Cas sat on his own bed and followed Dean, toeing off his sneakers. “It was fine, Dean.”

“Fine?” Dean was slowly unbuttoning his shirt. Cas was still just tipsy enough to watch those large fingers deftly move up the shirt and push it off freckled shoulders.

Cas’s mouth went dry. He tried to look away but then realized he had no more control over his neck. Another thing to blame on the tequila, or possibly his motor skills were shutting down. Maybe he had a rare disorder – he’d google it when he remembered how to move his fingers.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice jolted him back to the presence and reminded him he’d been staring. Cas regained control of his neck and looked down.

“Yeah, fine. What do you want me to say?” Cas pulled his own t-shirt off.

Dean waited a few moments and then said, “I got you a date. It should be more than fine.”

Cas groaned and stood up from the bed.

Dean blinked. “Shit, man. You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?”

Cas licked his lips, not sure where this line of questioning was headed. “Uh, no.”

Dean sighed. “Oh, good. I was worried maybe there was something going on between you and the scary Jesus girl.”

Cas couldn’t help but smile briefly. “Hannah?”

“Yeah,” Dean grinned. “Scary Jesus girl.”

Cas shook his head, his heart beating faster. The image of Dean’s bare torso had apparently decided to sign a mortgage in Cas’s brain. He needed an exit strategy. “I’m gonna take a shower,” he said quickly and then hurried into the bathroom and shut the door.

Cas leaned against the door and breathed deeply. After a moment of rest, Cas stripped the rest of his clothes off and put them in a pile by the door. He turned on the water and waited for it to get hot enough to turn his feet red.

He’d always enjoyed showers that way.

When it reached the proper temperature, Cas pulled back the clear curtain and stepped into the stream. The pain of the heat reminded him somewhat of the tequila shot, but Cas definitely liked this familiar sting much better. His muscles relaxed and so did his mind – maybe a little too much.

Still a little out of it from being, apparently, criminally lightweight, Cas grabbed the wrong shampoo and poured way too much of it into is hands. It smelled like Dean.

A rush of heat moved from his ribs to between his legs. Cas brought the gel close to his nose and breathed the scent deeply. He considered, for the briefest moment, washing it off under the strong pressure, but instead he rubbed the shampoo into his hair, letting the suds slide over his ear and down his neck.

Cas had already gone this far so he wasn’t sure why he should stop. Cas grabbed the white bar of soap that he knew belonged to Dean because it wasn’t his and this was _their_ bathroom and began rubbing it across his chest and his arms, his legs and even his feet.

The room was filling up with steam, choking him in a really, really good way, like he was gasping for air and it was so, so, good. He felt his own hands everywhere, but he smelled _Dean, Dean, Dean._

Cas had been doing everything he could to ignore it, but whatever it was, he couldn’t ignore it now. He was hard – hard at the thought of Dean’s bare chest, at the thought of the soap on Cas’s body being first on Dean’s body. Cas never did this, like he never ever did it like most guys. Well, he had done it _before_ but not often.

His youth pastor had told him about how his orgasms weren’t really his –that they belonged to his future wife- and he was effectively robbing her of them every time he touched himself like this. It had somehow made sense at the time, but now it seemed ridiculous.

Could Cas really rob the future Mrs. Novak of a completely renewable resource? It just seemed silly.

Cas’s slid his hand through the soap, _Dean’s soap,_ and he wrapped his hand around his dick. He braced one hand on the wall and began sliding his hand up and down and twisting.

Cas’s heart pounded, his breaths came short, erratic, and uncontrolled. He moved his hand faster and thrust into the tight ring of his hand. Still, it wasn’t enough, but the pressure was building, painfully building and Cas had to let it happen or he felt like he might die.

Dean’s bare chest came to mind first, followed by the gruff sound of his voice, his smile, the way he looked when he’d bend over to pick something off the ground.

That did it. Cas was pumping into his own hand and against the white tile and _oh, yes, please, yes, holy-_

He slumped forward and slid into the tub basin, letting the now cool water bring his body temperature back down.

It was a high – an _intense pleasure_ – and that sounded like a lubricant commercial. For Cas, it felt more like when he and Michael had gone to Disneyland and he’d been scared to death of the Tower of Terror, but that sensation of dropping and falling and being caught was exhilarating and good and he’d wanted to ride it again and again. Except this wasn’t exactly like that, not really, because he _couldn’t_ do this again. It was wrong to do it this time, especially thinking of Dean. That old guilt came slamming down on him and Cas felt awful for feeling so good.

He didn’t know what else to do except lace his fingers together and pray for forgiveness, pray that he’d be strong enough not to do this again. Not to want Dean.


	9. Chapter 9

 It had been a week since the shower incident. He and Dean had gotten along fine, Cas guessed, after that. Dean certainly didn’t change at all. Nothing was different for him.

But Cas noticed himself becoming careful around Dean in a way he never had been before. He was careful with his words, with his actions, with his responses to the occasional touches that Dean would bestow on his shoulder, his back, his arm. Cas had to be careful not to go back to the place he’d been in after that night at the Roadhouse. So Cas buried himself in his classes, in his Bible studies, his prayers, his small group at church. Anything to distract himself into exhaustion, which was where he was right now, in exhaustion, located at the back of Professor Singer’s class, staring at a dead grasshopper in the windowsill.

“Cas, Cas are you listening?” Hannah asked. Cas heard these words but he knew she’d been talking before and he hadn’t heard what she had been saying.

“Huh, what?”

Hannah sighed. “ _Cas.”_

Cas forced his head from his textbook and looked at the girl sitting next to him him. “Sorry, Hannah. What were you saying?”

She squinted suspiciously and leaned in, her elbows on her desk. “What’s with you?”

Cas shrugged. “Nothing.”

Hannah shook her head and lowered her voice. “You’ve been acting strange since the football game.”

Cas breathed out hard through his nose. He wasn’t in the mood to answer to, to well, whatever line of questioning this was. “I’m just worried about classes. That’s all.”

“The Aramaic test was the worst, wasn’t it?”

Hannah’s shoulder relaxed and she dropped back in her chair. She seemed to have accepted Cas’s answer without debate. Thank goodness because he couldn’t possibly tell her what’s been going on with him.

Cas looked down at the map of Rome in his book. “It was.”

“Well, it’s over now and we need to talk.”

His heart started beating faster again. Maybe she hadn’t just accepted that – maybe somehow she knew.

“About what?” he forced out the words

“The corn maze,” she said easily, clearly not noticing Cas’s sudden sweaty palms. He wiped them off on his jeans and said,

“The corn maze.”

Hannah nodded. “Yes. We’re going right?”

He was hit with a sudden memory of The Roadhouse, six feet of smiling, high definition Dean Winchester, the blurry face of a short blonde waitress and a date he’d sort of made with her.

“Uh,” Cas said eloquently.

Hannah’s head turned slightly. “We always go.”

“I know.” Cas looked back down at his textbook.

“So what’s the problem?” There was an edge to her voice now.

Cas started feeling jittery. His pulse was hammering in his head and he had the strangest urge just to dart out the door and run to the Tennessee border. Instead he just blurted,

“We’ll go. To the corn maze. We’ll go.”

Hannah grinned widely and settled back in her seat. “Okay, Cas. Good. I’m glad.”

Cas ignored the nervousness still boiling in his stomach. He had no clue what to tell Dean but he’d worry about that later. He _had_ to worry about Dean later.

Inias, who had just sat down in front of Cas, turned and said, “What’s Dr. Tron doing here?”

Hannah narrowed her eyes and said seriously, “I don’t know, but Singer looks like he’s about to stab him in the neck with a pencil.”

Dr. Tron was wearing a big thick sweater and his hair was the messy, greasy grey it always was. A big smarmy smile was plastered across his face as he stood in front of Singer’s desk. Singer, who was not wearing the baseball cap which had always been a permanent fixture on his head, and scowling from his desk chair.

“Hello, hello students. I hope you’re having a blessed and self-controlled day.” He clasped his hands together.

“Tron’s big into self-control,” Inias whispered.

“It’s one of the Fruits of the Spirit,” Hannah whispered.

“So is joy,” Inais responded.

“He’s not so fond of that fruit,” Cas said without thinking.

Dr. Tron pointed his long finger at “Is there something you’d like to share with the class…what’s your name?”

Cas’s stomach clenched. He suddenly really, really didn’t want Dr. Tron to know he existed, let alone know his name. “Uh, um, Cas. Cas Novak.”

Dr. Tron smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, Cas would you like to share what you were saying to your friend.”

“Uh.” What on earth was Cas supposed to say? He’d been making fun of the dean. That’s what he’d been doing.

“They were making fun of me,” Dr. Singer suddenly said.

“What?” Cas spat.

Dr. Tron turned his attention to Dr. Singer.

“They do it all the time. Idjits think I can’t hear ‘em.”

Dr. Tron turned back toward the class, but he addressed them all not just Cas. “You should respect your professors. I won’t tolerate disrespect, dissention or rule-breaking on campus, is that clear?”

The class nodded or gave their consent in one way or another. “Good. Now I’m going to be observing your History of the Christian Church class today,” Dr. Tron sat down in a chair in the front corner of the room. “You see, where Dr. Shurley was more of a delegator. I take the much more effective hands-on approach.”

Even though Cas knew what Shurley had done, this, this lesser everything, in front of him, did not need to be subtly insulting someone who’d always been in Cas’s experience – good and open and generous.

The whole class Dr. Tron took furious notes and left the room looking rather smug about the whole thing. Cas waited for the rest of the students to walk out the door before he approached Dr. Singer’s desk.

“Thanks, Dr. Singer,” Cas said quietly.

Singer pointed a thick finger at Cas. “I meant it. ‘Bout you being an idjit.”

Cas’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Yes, sir.” He made his way toward the door now, his fingers wrapped around the strap of his messenger bag.

“Hey, Cas.” Dr. Singer said, stopping Cas from leaving.

Cas turned around. “Yeah.”

Singer paused and then said, his voice low and sober, “How is he?”

Dean. Cas knew he meant Dean, but wasn’t sure what to say or how to even make those words come out.

“Uh.” That seemed to be Cas’s favorite word today.

“He told me he told you.”

“He did?”

“He said you-“

Cas stared down at the tile floor. “Dr. Singer.”

“I just wanted to say ‘thank you’.”

Cas looked back up at his professor. “Sir, how do you know, Dean? Has he even taken any of your classes?”

“Intro to the Christian Faith,” Singer replied quickly.

“But that’s not how you know him, is it?”

Intro to the Christian Faith had classes of 100 to 200 students. Everyone at the school had to take and pass the class. It was unlikely at professor would come to know and care about a student from Intro to Christian.

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Singer sighed. “Keep an eye on him, Cas. He acts like – but keep an eye on him.”

Cas couldn’t help but smile. “See you tomorrow, Dr. Singer.”

. . .

“Hey, Dean. I need to talk to you.” Cas shut the door to their bedroom.

Dean sat with his laptop open on the edge of the bed in a pair of torn jeans and a threadbare Carver sweatshirt that looked so soft Cas had to physically stop himself from touching it. He shut the laptop and looked right at Cas. “What’s up?”

Cas swallowed and looked away, making his way toward his desk chair. “It’s about the, uh, corn maze.”

“What about it?” He could hear Dean’s voice get deeper, like he knew what Cas was about to say and didn’t like it very much.

“I can’t go.“

“You _can’t_?”

“I mean- I can- it’s just I always go with Hannah…and Inias and Nora and-“ Cas rushed his words, still refusing to look at Dean. Dean grabbed his desk chair and spun it hard so Cas had to look at him. Cas’s heart lodged into his throat and he couldn’t breathe. “What?” Cas choked out.

Dean’s eyes were narrowed so much it drew Cas’s attention right to the perfect bow of eyelashes. “You can’t be that guy.”

“What guy?” Cas said as innocently as she could muster, though he hadn’t felt innocent since that other night in the shower.

“You promised Jo.”

“I recall _you_ promising Jo.”

“You agreed.”

“Dean.”

Dean sighed. “Look, Cas. You made plans with her…and me, and I’m not letting you out so easily. You spend every day with them. Give yourself one night, man. Come on.”

Cas swallowed. He tried not to look at Dean, not to be convinced, pulled in by him, but really it was utterly useless. He was so mesmerized, so ensorcelled, Cas was lost with how to fight something this – this _much._

“I don’t know.”

Dean’s lips broke into a shadow of a smile. “Who would you rather get lost in corn field with? Half the church choir or a hot blonde who’s totally into you?”

 _I’d rather get lost in a corn field with you._ But no. That was not okay. Not an okay thought.

“Yeah, fine. Whatever.”

Dean clapped a hand on Cas’s shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, Cas.”

Dean released Cas and went back to sit on his own bed and return to whatever he had been doing on his laptop as if Cas’s world wasn’t splintering to bits mostly because of how stupidly green Dean Winchester’s eyes were.


	10. Chapter 10

He hadn’t wanted to tell Hannah he couldn’t go to the corn maze with her and the rest of the friends. She’d react badly, react like this, but he had to suck it up and do it. Because honestly, he was tired of just going along with whatever and she and his friends wanted.

“You what?” Hannah spat, setting her coffee down at little to hard on The Library’s small café table.

Cas stared down at his shoes and then back up at Hannah. “I made a promise – a date – and I have to keep it.”

Her eyes narrowed and her ears reddened. “You made a date? You don’t date…With who?”

“You don’t know her.”

Hannah crossed her arms. “She doesn’t go here?”

“No.”

“Well,” she sighed, “where did you meet her?”

Cas swallowed. She was not gonna like this, so it made it even harder to say. “She’s a friend of…Dean’s.”

Hannah gaped. “Dean? Are you crazy?”

Cas didn’t want to talk about this anymore, so he steeled himself and said as forcefully as he could. “I made the date, Hannah. I’m gonna keep my word. That’s it.”

Hannah let out a little huff of air and then as quiet as a whisper said, “What about your word to me?”

 

Dean had driven Cas to the corn maze. He’d loved every second of the drive. The rumble of Dean’s 1967 Impala beneath him. The cool wind streaming in from the cracked windows. The sound of Dean’s off key voice as he sang to the weirdest playlist Cas had ever heard.

“60 percent Classic Rock, 40 percent T. Swift, and shut up about it,” Dean had said.

Now they were standing at the entrance of the corn maze, shoulder to shoulder, listening to Cas’s date, Jo, speak. Jo had also come with Dean and Jo’s friend, Ash, who seemed really into what Jo was saying. When all Cas found himself doing was glancing over at Dean, observing the light stubble across his face, that seemed even more pronounced in the moonlight, the perfect jut of his lips.

Cas shook his head and forced himself to listen to Jo. She had her hands on her hips, wind kicking back her blonde hair. “So, the trick is you have to remember which direction you’re heading or you’ll get turned around.”

Cas leaned over to whisper to Dean. He smelled like that shampoo…the one Cas…he shouldn’t think about what he did with it. “She seems like she knows what she’s doing.”

Dean shrugged, his lips quirked into a small smile. “She’s Jo.”

“And,” she pointed her finger at Dean, “we should stick together.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but in a friendly sort of way if that were possible. “You know this isn’t supposed to be a competition, Jo.”

“Anything is a competition if you’re competitive about it.” She winked at Cas, which just made Cas startle. Jo made him really nervous. Not in the good way, just in the too much for him sort of way.

As they headed into the maze surrounded by thick stalks of corn, that fenced them in too closely, Cas whispered to Dean. “Who are we even trying to beat here?”

Dean tossed a casual arm over Cas’s shoulders and Cas felt it all the way down to his feet.

“Don’t ask,” Dean said with a wink that nearly knocked Cas off his feet.

For supposedly being on a date with Jo, Cas spent most of the time in the maze with Jo. First off, Jo was way too into figuring out how to solve the maze that she wasn’t paying any attention to Cas, not that he really minded. He had more fun listening to Dean’s corny jokes (that was one of them) and occasionally brushing hands.

In any case, Jo was very good at navigation and they were in and out of the maze in really good time. The wind had picked up and was shaking the leaves on the trees, enough that many of them were flying off and floating down to the ground

“I’m so glad we got through so quickly,” Dean shoved Jo’s shoulder, “Now we have time to stare into the night sky. Look it’s black.”

She jabbed Dean in the ribs. “Shut up, Dean.”

There was a long pause and then Dean glanced over at Cas. “How about me and you go get some apple cider for everyone?”

Cas swallowed, looked at Jo and then nodded to Dean. When there was a several yard distance between Dean and Cas and the others, Dean asked, “Enjoying your date?”

Cas wasn’t sure how to answer. Jo was interesting and nice – not the worst company, but there wasn’t any sort of connection there. Not that Cas felt connected to anyone except – _no, Cas, you can’t walk down that road._

“Jo is very kind… and very determined.”

Dean nudged Cas’s shoulder. “Yes, she is man. Good luck with her.”

They were almost to the small wooden stand that sold hot beverages when Cas blurted, “Is Ash your date?”

“Ash? Nah. He’s straight – not my type anyway.”

“What is your type?” Cas asked without thinking.

Dean stopped then looked over at Cas, a mischievous look in his eye. “Of guy?”

Cas licked his lips, staring at Dean, and nodded.

Dean held his gaze for a moment and then started walking again, “Piercings. Tattoos. At least one arrest or that’s a dealbreaker. And he’s got to own a pair of assless chaps.”

Dean could always break the tension in a way that just made things better. Cas went along with it easily, thankful for the distraction.

“Of course,” Cas said. “Perfectly sensible”

There was no line at the stand so Dean approached and handed the cashier ten dollars. “Four apple ciders.” The cashier nodded and turned away to get the drinks.

Cas fished into his wallet for five and gave it to Dean who looked at it for a moment and then just stuffed it into his pocket.

Dean reaches out and pulls on the orange knitted fabric around his neck. “I like your um - that thing.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “My scarf?”

Dean looked shocked, maybe even a little offended. “That’s not a scarf. It’s all…roundy.”

Cas laughed, hard and genuine. Only Dean could pull that kind of sincerity of him. “It’s an infinity scarf.”

Dean finally took his hand away from Cas. “Well, I like it.”

“Thanks, Dean,” Cas said, hoping it was too dark to see him blush.

 

Dean and Cas rejoined Jo and Ash and they talked for awhile when Jo took Cas by the arm and led him away from the group. Cas assumed they were getting to the date part of the evening and his palms started to sweat. Like a lot. But when they stopped in an isolated corner near some trees, Jo said,

“You don’t like me.”

“That’s not true,” and Cas meant it, “You’re great.”

Jo sighed, stepping closer. “I mean you don’t like like me.”

Cas wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t. “That’s – yeah, I’m sorry.”

Jo patted him on the shoulder a little bit too hard. “It’s okay, but we need to have a talk.”

Cas crossed his arms over his chest, feeling oddly exposed, endangered. “Okay,” he says warily.

Jo took a deep breath and fixed a hard gaze on Cas. “Dean is – Dean is special. He’s good and kind and loves his little brother and his best friend. He’s like the kind of guy who climbs into trees to rescue kittens and shit. And you, I see the way he looks at you-“

Cas’s heart dropped to his feet. She couldn’t mean that. “I don’t know what you-“

“Yes, you do. You do and you look at him, like well I don’t know what, but stop. Because I know guys like you. And Dean Winchester isn’t some story you get to tell your congregation some day – he’s not some dark path you walked down that Jesus is gonna save you from – he’s _good._ He’s _real._ And if you fuck with him I’ll break your face.”

Jo stuffed her hands in the pockets of her coat and stormed off. Moments later, Dean arrived, his cheeks bitten by the wind, his hair tousled by it, and Cas concerned going to the depths of the corn maze and never returning.

“Hey, what were you guys talking about?” Dean asked.

Cas couldn’t even look at Dean. “Can we go?”

Dean grabbed Cas’s upper arm and looked intently at him, “What’d you do, man?”

Cas shook his head. “Nothing. Please. I want to leave.”

“Yeah, all right.” Dean pulled out his keys. “I’ll take you home.”


	11. Chapter 11

They’d been driving for about thirty minutes in total silence when Dean slammed on the brakes and pulled off the road. He turned off the car and the lights and glanced over at Cas. “Now can we talk about it. What happened back there?”

Cas’s face heated up and yet he shivered, doing his best not to look towards the driver’s seat, towards Dean. He failed. “I don’t know, Dean. Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dean lips moved into a small smile. Cas immediately recognized it as a gesture of kindness. It was simple, innocent, but it didn’t feel innocent. “Guess your date didn’t go so well.”

“They never do for me.”

Cas glanced down at his hands folded his lap. He scratched at scar he’d gotten from wrestling Gabriel when they were younger. He didn’t want to think about the other girls he’d dated, once or twice, maybe. The way he should’ve wanted to touch them but never did. Lucky. Cas had thought he was lucky not to be tempted by sexual things. He had been an idiot.

“Sorry, man. I thought Jo-“

Cas let out a hiss of air. “Please, Dean. Don’t.”

“What is it?”

“She’s just,” how could Cas even begin? He didn’t want to say the truth, “not my type.”

Dean snorted. “She’s young and hot and blonde. She’s every dude’s type.”

“Not every dude’s,” Cas snapped without thinking.

Dean stiffened, his head almost touching the roof of his car. “What?”

“She’s the one that ended the date, Dean.”

“She did? Why?”

Cas shook his head. “Are you always so inquisitive?”

“Only when my two closest friends seem to have some sort of weird angry secret.”

“We don’t have,” but that’s not the part of the sentence his treacherous brain wanted to focus on, “I’m one of your closest friends?”

Dean leaned his head back, exposing the long line of his throat, the coarse stubble, the rise and dip of his Adam’s apple that was so distinctly, fantastically, male. Dean’s eyes blinked a few times and then glanced over at Cas, a gaze as soft as cotton.

“Yeah, pretty pathetic, huh?” Dean said.

Cas couldn’t resist the following words, “You’re one of my closest friends too, Dean. Believe it or not.”

“Remember when we hated each other?”

Cas raised his eyebrows. “Like two months ago?”

“Yeah, like two months ago. Do you remember why?”

They were really going to talk about this. They were going to talk about this after nearly four years of totally and pointedly ignoring the subject other than to passive aggressively make the other one’s life as difficult as possible. Fine. Dean wanted to talk about it, Cas would talk about it.

“Yeah. We were doing that skit for freshman orientation. They had to cast me as a female character because I was short-ish and we had too many guys and you _attacked_ me.”

Dean snorted and pointed a long, large finger directly at Cas. “I did not attack you. I tried to kiss you…for the integrity of the skit, by the by, and _you_ kneed me in the balls.”

Cas remembered that moment like it had just happened. He remembered the good-looking taller boy, the one with the football scholarship, who had the sculpted muscles to prove it. He remembered the smile that crinkled his eyes, his laugh…Cas remembered the way he’d leaned in toward his mouth, the way Cas’s heart practically shot out of his chest, the way his hands were shaking and the thought in his head that he just knew everyone around could hear and know his dark secret

_I want that beautiful boy to kiss me._

Cas had to stop it before it happened. He had to stop himself. So, yeah, he kneed Dean in the balls, and saved himself.

“Maybe Jo is right,” Cas whispered.

“Right about what?”

“Us,” Cas swallowed, “that maybe we shouldn’t be friends?”

Dean laughed that same laughed he’d laughed all those years ago. “Why on earth would Jo say we shouldn’t be friends? Because of one lousy knee-to-the-balls scenario?”

“I don’t know really, I guess. I mean-“ Cas scratched his temple with the inside of his wrist.

“Cas.”

“We’re just from…different worlds.”

“…like _Fox and the Hound_?”

“The Disney movie?”

“Yes, Cas. The Disney movie. It’s a good movie. That shit’s almost as sad as _Bambi_.”

Cas looked down and smiled. “Well, yes, I mean. There comes a point when we just have to realize that this, that our friendship can’t last.”

“Why’s that, Cas?”

“Well, because and for many other reasons.” _Convincing argument, Cas. You should’ve joined the debate team._

Without warning, Dean yanked off his seat belt, opened the door and ran down the side of the hill into the thick trees. Cas followed him like they were strung together. He traipsed down the muddy slope behind his roommate shouting, “Dean. Dean get back in the car. What are you doing?”

It was so dark Cas didn’t see when he’d made it to Dean. He bumped right into him and gasped. Dean grabbed his arms and pulled him forward into a little sliver of moonlight.

Dean’s voice balanced somewhere between harsh and desperate. “Cas Novak. What did Jo say to you? Tell me and don’t lie. Remember lying’s a sin.”

It was a sin. And if Cas was going to sin, he’d sin over something good. Not a secret that wasn’t even his to keep.

“That you’re… into me…you know romantically…and that I needed to stay away because…”

Dean only tightened his grip on Cas’s shoulders, his chest rising and falling more heavily than it should. He wasn’t saying anything. He needed to say…so Cas kept talking,

“This is when you say ‘that’s ridiculous! I could never be into you. Don’t be silly’.” Cas’s voice almost broke on the words because Dean still wasn’t letting him go and Cas still wasn’t trying to make him. Dean’s hands slid from Cas’s shoulders up his neck and to his cheeks, leaving a trail of _yes, yes, please, touch me, oh Jesus I’m going to hell_ in their wake. Gasping for air, Dean leaned his forehead against Cas’s.

“ _Cas,”_ Dean groaned.

Cas let out a shaky, “Yes, Dean?”

Dean shut his eyes, stroking that perfect calloused thumb across Cas’s cheekbone. “I really want to kiss you,” Dean whispered, “and I really don’t want you to knee me in the balls this time.”

Cas didn’t let Dean kiss him. It was Cas who kissed Dean.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic brings back some weird memories. Almost makes me nostalgic for church (almost). Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think, lovelies!

Cas had kissed girls before – two. It was always short and chaste. Nothing like this. Cas could barely stand the want burning inside him. He wanted to tear Dean apart. It took every ounce of restraint not to slide his hands under Dean’s shirt and feel his skin as Dean’s lips moved hard, wet and insistent against his own.

Dean’s fingers slid into Cas’s hair, locking them tighter together. Cas’s heart plummeted to his feet when Dean’s tongue licked at Cas’s lips. He wasn’t sure what to do. He’d never…

Dean smiled against Cas’s lips and leaned back just enough to say, “Open your mouth a little for me.”

Cas gasped for air and Dean kissed him again; this time Dean pressed his tongue into Cas’s mouth, bracketing his hand on Cas’s waist and bringing their pelvises together. Cas went loose and pliable at Dean’s hot, experienced touch.

Cas kissed back, working his own tongue in soft licks against Dean. Dean groaned and kissed Cas harder, grinding once against Cas and the feel of another erection pressing against his own ( _crap, he was hard too)_ shocked him back to reality.

“Dean. Dean, please slow down.”

Dean kept his forehead against Cas’s but backed up so they were no longer pressed against each other. His breaths were heavy and hard. Cas stared at Dean’s lips. Lips, beautiful, wonderful boy lips that had just been against his own.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Cas said, “It was me too.”

“I’m sorry for moving too fast, Cas. But I’m not sorry for the kiss. I just need you to know that.” Dean looked down like he was afraid Cas was rejecting him. Cas wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he liked the kiss a lot. He wouldn’t take it back.

“I’m not sorry either.”

Dean cupped Cas’s face in his large hands and kissed him once, just a peck, and Cas still shivered all the way to his toes. “Can I take you home?” Dean whispered.

Cas nodded.

They didn’t hold hands back to the car or on the drive home. They listened to music and sang along with it and eventually Cas drifted off.

“Hey, hey sleepyhead. We’re home.” Dean’s voice and his hand on Cas’s shoulder woke him.

“I can sleep in the car.” Cas curled up against the Impala’s window.

“You’ll get in trouble,” Dean said. “Now, come on, _gorgeous,”_ Dean whispered. “You can get upstairs.”

If Cas’s brain wasn’t so tired it would be short-circuiting from the ‘gorgeous’ comment. “Fine, fine. I’m coming.”

Cas undid his seatbelt, left the car and then he and Dean made their way up to their dorm room. When Dean unlocked the door and let Cas walk in first, the dorm room they shared suddenly felt a lot less innocent.

The ‘no girls’ in the rooms, keep your doors open, rules worked for straight guys, but what about them? What could they get away with? Cas shook the thought away. It was one thing to kiss Dean – one time – to think of any more, that was a different set of something he wasn’t ready to deal with. But that night nothing was really different. Cas tried not to watch as Dean changed out of his clothes into his boxers, and Cas stepped into the bathroom to change.

When they both lay in bed, Dean flicked off the lamp.

“Night, Cas.”

Cas sighed. “Night Dean.”

 

. . .

 

Cas was tying his left shoe when Dean yawned, his eyes fluttering open.

“What on earth are you doing? It’s Sunday morning. Go back to bed.” Dean huddled closer into his bed. He looked innocent, warm and sleepy like that. A stray thought crossed Cas’s mind. If he wanted, he could just curl up in that warmth with Dean.

Cas stood straight up from the bed. “I can’t. I have church.”

Dean’s voice was muffled in his pillow. “You can’t miss one day?”

“ _Dean._ ”

Dean sat up in bed, letting his comforter fall down around hips, showing off his firm chest and tight abs. Cas swallowed. “I could go with you.”

Cas snorted. “You want to go to church with me?”

Dean shrugged. “What? Am I not allowed?”

“No. You’re, uh, allowed.”

“Cool,” Dean slid like liquid out of the bed and stood in nothing but orange boxers. Blushing, Cas looked away.

“I need to leave in 10 minutes.”

“Yes, dear.” Dean winked. Cas tried to breathe, but somehow Dean’s wink must have atomized his lungs.

. . .

Dean was adorable, trying to dress up. There was no way around that reality. He was just _cute._ He had on dark jeans, brown dress shoes and a clean brown flannel shirt with rolled up sleeves. Cas’s cheeks went hot at the sight.

“This good enough?” Dean asked.

“It’s fine, Dean.”

“Just fine?” Dean slid up behind Cas, wrapping his arms around Cas’s waist and Cas inhaled sharply.

“ _Dean,”_ Cas said. He meant it more like “Dean, no” but it sounded more like “Dean, yes, _please._ ”

“I like your sweater,” Dean said against Cas’s ear and then broke away from him. Cas breathed out a sigh of relief.

“It’s a cardigan.”

Cas picked his Bible off his desk and tucked it under his arm. He reached for his keys, “Oh no,” Cas said.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Cas’s mouth went dry at the pet name. Cas would have to talk to Dean about that. About not doing that.

“I usually car pool with Hannah.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You don’t go to Carver Chapel?”

“No. We go to First Grace Church. It’s smaller than Carver, and I like it for that.”

“Oh.”

Cas looked up at Dean’s frown. He could tell that Dean didn’t want to car pool with Hannah. They didn’t get along, and Hannah would understand because Dean was going to church. That was a miracle in itself. The other details would work themselves out.

 _Don’t need a ride –_ Cas texted Hannah.

A few moments later, she replied, _You sick?_

_No. I’ll see you at church._

 

. . .

 

The church looked like it always did – white wood with a traditional steeple. They’d built on a few larger wings, one for Sunday School classes and another was a fellowship hall.

Dean pulled into the one of the parking spots. Cas opened is car door and Dean didn’t budge.

“You okay?” Cas asked.

“Um.”

“Dean?”

“This was a bad idea.”

Cas leaned on the Impala’s frame. “Why?”

“What if they start preaching on how I’m going to hell or something and yelling about brimstone and shit?”

Cas gave a little whispered laugh. “I’ve been going here for four years. I can guarantee you that isn’t going to happen?”

“Is this one of those progressive churches with a lesbian pastor or something?”

“Well, no, but there won’t be any brimstone.”

Dean got out of the car and slammed the door. He pointed a finger at Cas. “If there’s brimstone, you owe me.”

Cas just shook his head as Dean walked to his side. “Deal.”

As soon as Cas and Dean walked through the door, Becky, Shurley’s ex-wife, greeted them with a paper program that explained all the church activities for the week. Cas took the program and folded it into his back pocket. She had that big poofy southern hair, expensive clothes and she smelled like strong perfume.

“Good morning, Cas. Who’s this?” Her eyes were on Dean.

“This is my roommate, Dean. Dean, this is Becky.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

Becky lunged forward and hugged him. “Oh, it’s so good to have new faces around here.” She looked at Cas. “Not that we don’t love our old faces.”

“You two hurry off to Sunday School, now.”

Dean stayed basically glued to Cas’s side, like he was afraid one of the wooden crosses would magically fly off the wall and thump him on the head.

“Want a donut?” Cas asked.

“Huh?”

Cas gestured to the fold out table full of donuts and the big aluminum pot of coffee. “There’s a coffee too.”

“It’s free?” Dean asked, whispering in Cas’s ear. He tried to shut his eyes and not imagine that breath breathed on him for other reasons, at other times.

“Yes, Dean.”

“You church folk really do have the hook up.”

Cas grabbed a glazed donut and poured himself a cup of coffee. Dean took a donut and downed it in two bites. Instead of pouring his own cup though, Dean just took a sip of Cas’s and handed it back to him.

“Cas! Cas, can you help?” It was the children’s pastor, Daphne, and she sounded frantic.

“Are you okay?” Cas asked.

“None of our volunteers showed up today. We need some folks for the 2nd and 3rd graders.”

Cas’s eyes widened and his throat constricted. “You want me to watch _kids_?”

“Could you?”

“Uhhh…” Heck, no.

Daphne’s hair was sticking up a million different ways. She grabbed Cas’s hands. “Please, Cas. We’re really desperate here.”

“I, uh, brought a friend and he, uh.”

“We’ll totally help,” Dean said.

 _We’ll do? We’ll what?_ Cas’s mouth dropped open, stunned.

“Thank you! You’re the best.” Daphne scampered off, probably to find more victims.

“Why did you do that?” Cas barked at Dean.

“Do what?”

“Tell them I would work in Children’s church.”

“What’s the big deal?” Dean shrugged.

“I’m terrible with kids, Dean. They just, they don’t like me, okay?”

“Well, Cas, you’re in luck because I’m awesome with kids.”

Dean slung an arm around Cas’s shoulder. Cas tensed because Dean was touching him and it sent tingles through every part of his body, and it made him _want_ in terrible ways. Cas considered shrugging off the touch, but he knew it looked perfectly acceptable to everyone else. So Cas, Cas let it be.

“Which way is Children’s church?” Dean gave a little smirk.

Cas absolutely did _not_ want to kiss it away.


End file.
